


Let's Do Lunch

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Genre: Butt Plugs, Consensual Kink, Fingerfucking, M/M, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Kink Bingo 2009. Tom Jeter / Jack Rudolph. I'm sorry that I'm such a shameless slash monster. I like Tom/Lucy, I really do, it's just that my horrible fan-girly brain wants these two to be having kinky sex all over the place, okay?</p>
    </blockquote>





	Let's Do Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2009. Tom Jeter / Jack Rudolph. I'm sorry that I'm such a shameless slash monster. I like Tom/Lucy, I really do, it's just that my horrible fan-girly brain wants these two to be having kinky sex all over the place, okay?

  


Perhaps Jack's office wasn't the best place for a quickie, but then again, Tom has shown a surprising aptitude for idiotic behavior in the past. If Jack's going to 'work through lunch', then Tom is going to interpret that the same way he would have at the age of nineteen - which is to say, he decides it's a thinly veiled invitation to fuck on Jack's desk, something he's been fantasizing about for a long time. Before he'd realized that he wanted to fuck Jack on Jack's desk, Tom has wanted to fuck on Jack's desk.

But he's capable of being conscientious, as well. He's not nineteen anymore, he's not nearly as flexible as he was back then, or nearly as shortsighted. Which is why he brings the plug to work with him as well as a tube of lube, slicks himself up with three fingers in his dressing room right before lunch, and then he goes to meet Jack.

-

Jack's office isn't on the top floor of the NBS building, but it's pretty fucking close. Tom enjoys the view from the window as Jack issues memos and signs press releases, argues with Jordan over the phone and has a rather strained conversation with the CEO. Afterward, he leans back in his chair and hisses in frustration.

"You're not having a very good day," Tom says, moving over and gently rubbing Jack's temples, the other man closing his eyes and groaning.

"What gave it away?" He asks, sarcastic but without any real rancor.

"Mmhmm," Tom agrees, sympathetically. "Would it make you feel better if we had sex on your desk?"

-

"You know," Jack says, a few minutes later, pushing a fourth finger slowly into Tom's ass. "I think my headache is almost gone."

Tom's laugh turns into a moan when Jack crooks his fingers, setting off explosions like fireworks on the back of Tom's eyelids as his fingers stroke over his prostate. Tom doesn't need the prep, but Jack likes this part, working him open and letting him moan. "I'm ready, come on," Tom says. "Stop being a -- a -- oh, god, stop being such a damn tease, Jack -- just, will you -- fuck me already --"

"Mmm," Jack says, apparently disagreeing because he makes no move to stop, still working his fingers in and out. "I wish I could have been there to see it,"

"What?"

"You." Jack answers, brushing a soft kiss over the nape of Tom's neck. "Alone in your dressing room, pushing---" and he demonstrates this by thrusting his fingers in hard, eliciting a gasp from Tom, "pushing your fingers inside of yourself and thinking about me the whole time,"

"Nnngh," Tom moans.

And that's when the phone rings.

They both freeze for a moment, and Tom says through gritted teeth, "Jack, you are _not_ going to--"

"Jack Rudolph," Jack says, hitting the speakerphone button with his free hand. Tom bites down on his fist, hard, because Jack is still moving his fingers inside of him, gently, stroking over his prostate again and _again_ and--

"I'll be right there," Jack says, and when he hangs up Tom lets out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"You are not--" Tom hisses.

"Just for a moment," 

"You are not going to---"

"Don't worry about it," Jack says, working the butt-plug back in, rubbing over Tom's back with his free hand. "It'll just be a moment -- I'll be right back," and he pats Tom's ass with his still-wet fingers, flips him over and kisses him on the mouth before he wipes his hand (on Tom's shirt). Straightening his tie, Jack stands up and walks out of the office looking only mildly harried.

Tom stares at the door. "Oh, for fuck's sake." He says.

-

Of course, 'just a moment' in Jack-speak translates to 'the better part of an hour,' during which Tom puts back on his underwear and his pants and then he strips off his t-shirt and hides it in Jack's drawer just to be mean.

Then, he steals the extra shirt that Jack has hidden in his office for emergencies, and when he puts it on it feels kind of nice, expensive like only a three-hundred-dollar shirt really can. And then he realizes that he's got to get back to the studio before the end of his lunch break, because Darius had been trying to pitch sketches to him and he really, really needs to talk Harriet out of that unfortunate haircut before she makes a decision she'll regret, so he leaves before Jack is finished doing whatever it is that was so fucking important.

-

"Are you finished yet?" He asks, plaintively.

Jack sounds resigned. "Things are just -- snowballing out of control," he says. "I can fix this, though -- it's just going to take more time than I'd originally thought."

"You know," Tom says, idly flipping through yet another magazine as he sits alone in his dressing room. "I can think of at least one really, really important thing that you need to do down that the Studio."

"Oh?"

"Me," Tom says, switching his cellphone to his other ear.

There's a short silence. "At the studio?" Jack repeats.

"Yes," Tom says. "Me. At the studio. And I'm not saying you promised, I'm just saying, it was implied that I could stay bent over your desk and you'd come back and fuck me senseless, but that didn't happen, Jack."

Jack sighs. "I'm a man of my word. And I have no intention of -- reneging on our agreement," and that last part means that someone else is in the room with him.

Tom growls in frustration. "Just hurry the fuck up and fix whatever it is," he says, shifting uncomfortably and wondering why he's still wearing the damn plug. "Because it's really, really important,"  


Jack chuckles, low and kind of dirty. "It'll keep," He says, very softly, before he hangs up.

-

It's already fucking dark outside and Tom's pretty sure that he's fucking crazy, but Jack had called him and said "meet me in my office," so here he was.

The door slams shut behind him, and when Tom turns around Jack is standing there, as composed as ever, looking perhaps a little bit tired.

"It's about fucking time," Tom says, reaching for him.

Jack takes a half-step back, managing to evade his grasp. "There's a car waiting to take me to the airport," he says, looking apologetic and -- Jesus fucking H Christ, is that so not going to happen.

"Jack," Tom says, desperate and kind of pissed off.

"Come _on, Jeter_ ," and then Jack grabs him by the wrist and drags him towards the door. "We don't have a lot of time, just --"

-

And the car turns out to be a limo, which is totally fine, because it means that Jack can throw Tom down on the seat and then crawl all over him.

"You are such an asshole," Tom says, trying to get Jack's suit jacket off. Jack growls and dives in for another kiss, biting at Tom's lips, licking messily at his mouth.

"Shut up," Jack responds, yanking the tails of his shirt out of Tom's jeans, popping the button on his fly. 

"Do you have any idea how fucking--"

"I have been thinking about you all day," Jack says, half mumbling the words against the skin of Tom's neck as he bites him almost gently. "Fuck -- you. I've been thinking about you -- about _fucking_ you. All. Day. Long."

And yeah, okay, that's pretty much exactly what Tom wants to hear. "Yeah?"

"Going fucking crazy," Jack mutters. "Having to talk about stupid Macao and all I can think about is -- you're already ready, already stretched open and slick--"

Working together, they manage to wrestle Tom out of his pants, get him sprawled across the seat still wearing Jack's shirt. "Come on," Tom says, breathless as Jack pulls the plug out of him, slowly. "Just fuck me, come on, come on Jack,"

And then Jack's pushing inside of him, breath hot on the back of Tom's neck, breathing into his ear and saying "Fuck, fuck -- Tom, you--"

"Shut up and fuck me," Tom says, bracing himself with one arm. "Shut the fuck up and--"

"All day," Jack says, starting to move. "You've been -- _all day_ , Tom, all--"

-  



End file.
